


Always the Quiet Ones

by manic_intent



Series: One, Two, Magic [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: And Other Shenanigans, Fail!Roleplay, M/M, That fic where Cullen failed at roleplaying in the bedroom, dorian is trying very hard not to be moved, he tried, or laugh, though he tried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:41:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3222758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian was fairly sure something had been Up all week, if only because Cullen had been far more awkward than usual and Varric had been seen once heading out of Cullen’s office with a disbelieving look plastered across his face, like a dwarf balanced in a narrow space between uncontrollable mirth and horror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always the Quiet Ones

**Author's Note:**

> Still my OTP for this fandom...

Dorian was fairly sure something had been Up all week, if only because Cullen had been far more awkward than usual and Varric had been seen once heading out of Cullen’s office with a disbelieving look plastered across his face, like a dwarf balanced in a narrow space between uncontrollable mirth and horror.

He cornered Adaar in the library, in the middle of furtively - yet again - trying to entice one of Leliana’s birds onto his wrist with a handful of breadcrumbs, and the Inquisitor looked up guiltily, almost spilling all the breadcrumbs down onto Solas on the floor below. 

“Dorian!” Adaar hid his handful of crumbs behind his back, as though the entire Library hadn’t already noticed: it was rather hard for a Qunari to do anything stealthy. “What can I help you with?”

“Can we talk?”

Adaar blinked at Dorian, puzzled, then he nodded and tipped his head towards the stairwell. They walked out into the bitingly cold air of the battlements in silence, Adaar briefly pausing to tip his handful of crumbs into the grass. “Is something wrong?” Adaar asked finally, genuine concern in his tone. It was always utterly disorienting to meet someone to whom Dorian’s race and ability mattered nothing at all, and Dorian’s irritation with the world off-kilter faded a little. 

“Something’s up,” Dorian said, once they were somewhere quiet on the high old walls, looking out to the vast snow-capped peaks. “I know it.” He related everything he had seen over the week to Adaar, ending with, “Also, half the books on Tevinter in the Library are missing, Leliana’s been staring at me the past few days as though she’s… she’s measuring me for a _coffin_ or something, and that weird masked lady in the courtyard who’s the head of the merchant’s guild or whatever starts giggling whenever I’m nearby! _Giggling_ ,” he repeated, in case Adaar didn’t understand the import.

“Well,” Adaar said, sounding a little bewildered, “It all seems rather harmless.”

“Oh it does, does it?” Dorian grumbled. “And I suppose _you_ don’t know what’s going on.” 

“Not at all.” Adaar’s eyes were absolutely guileless, and Dorian supposed that he should have known. Unlike the Iron Bull, Adaar seemed absolutely incapable of any sort of deception. “I could ask Sera,” Adaar added. “She’ll get to the bottom of it very quickly.”

“And also spread it far and wide across Skyhold?”

Adaar pulled a face. “What about Varric? Have you tried Varric?”

“That blasted dwarf just clams up and smirks and me and smirks at me until I go away.” Dorian shuddered. “Do you know how uncomfortable that is?”

“There’s just probably some new rumour about Tevinter people making the rounds,” Adaar said vaguely. “Last week someone spread the news that male Qunari have genitals as thick as female human arms. That was rather funny. Bull caught someone trying to peek in on him when he was in the bath.”

A little thrown by the sudden and wildly different topic of conversation, Dorian found himself asking, “Well, uh, is it true?” 

“I suppose it depends on the Qunari in question and on the female human arm. Cassandra has thicker arms than Vivienne, for example.“

“I’m entirely uncertain why I’m suddenly having this conversation with you,” Dorian said, fascinated despite himself, which was, of course, why said conversation actually developed to a level of sordid and utterly unworthy detail when Cullen chanced out onto the battlements, probably to get some air. He froze like a deer when he saw the both of them there, blushed scarlet, and retreated so quickly that there were probably friction marks on the stone. 

“… I see what you mean,” Adaar said, in the surprised silence that followed. “Have you tried talking to him?”

“Obviously.” Cullen had blinked at him, stammered some excuse, and had promptly been swamped by requisitions. 

“Do you want _me_ to talk to him?” 

“Not really,” Dorian admitted, if only because the… arrangement he had with Cullen was still in place, if on the quiet. They hadn’t done much more than play chess and sneak in the occasional kiss on the battlements since, but Cullen was so spooked by the idea of gossip that Dorian had kept matters to himself, tempting as it had been to slip out a rumour or two. 

“As long as no one’s in trouble then,” Adaar decided, puzzled. “I don’t really understand humans. Even after living around all of you for so long. You make things too complicated.”

“That’s our burden to bear,” Dorian patted Adaar on his arm. Yes. Come to think of it, things _didn’t_ have to be complicated. If this was some sort of strange trouble that Cullen was in, then Dorian just had to get straight to the bottom of it. 

“All right then,” Adaar nodded, still openly bewildered. “Let me know if you need help with something.” 

“You’ve been a great help.” Dorian turned and headed purposefully towards Cullen’s office, grinning as he heard a confused, “I have? _Humans_ ,” behind him as he went. 

Cullen actually jumped when Dorian let himself into his office. Thankfully, he was alone, and it was a pleasure, as always, watching the Commander go “Ah…” and blush when Dorian locked the doors with a flicker of magic and a showy gesture. 

“I’m really rather busy right now,” Cullen mumbled, as Dorian advanced, tugging the report that Cullen was holding out of his hands and tossing it aside, then tugging him over for a kiss. Cullen tensed up against him instantly, then, as Dorian had come to expect, big hands grabbed him tight by the hips, clutching at him as Cullen kissed him, still with the sloppy eagerness of inexperience. 

“So,” Dorian drawled, when he had Cullen pinned against the wall. “Whatever do you have riding that fine arse of yours recently?”

Cullen reddened further. “Maker, I… do you always have to…” 

“It _is_ a fine arse,” Dorian teased, and leaned over to the lobe of one of Cullen’s ears in his teeth and tug lightly before purring into the shell, “Though I would rather be the one riding it.” 

“ _Dorian!_ ” Cullen hissed, shocked, but Dorian wasn’t fooled: he could feel Cullen’s cock push against his thigh. 

“I hate secrets, Commander,” Dorian drawled, “So either you tell me what’s eating at you all this while, or…”

“Or?” Cullen was staring at Dorian’s mouth, always a promising sign. 

“Or I bribe Sera to find out what’s wrong with you. She’ll love the task.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Cullen said quickly, utterly insincerely, and at Dorian’s arched eyebrow, he muttered, “Um, er, well, it was all meant to be a surprise. But I’m not quite sure if it’s right and it’s not really complete and-“ Cullen paused, when Dorian pressed a finger against his mouth, warmth starting to curl up within him, like a spreading bloom.

“Before my egocentricity leads to assumptions,” Dorian said slowly, “Could you clarify. What, or who is this ‘surprise’ for?”

“For you,” Cullen seemed puzzled that Dorian was even asking, then he flushed when Dorian started to grin. “I… I mean, who _else_ could it be for… and I tried to keep it quiet and how did you find out about it anyway?” 

“You are many things,” Dorian stroked his hands lightly up Cullen’s flanks, and pressed a kiss lightly on Cullen’s mouth, “But thankfully, you’re utterly incapable of subtlety.” 

Cullen scowled, a look that was still as adorable as ever. “I tried.”

“I know.” 

“Ah, but you still don’t know what it is,” Cullen added, his scowl fading into a faint little smirk, which was even more adorable. 

“ _That’s_ the part that’s killing me.” 

“It’s not finished yet.”

“Cullen,” Dorian said, very seriously, “I _hate_ secrets, and if I don’t learn what it is that you’re hiding from me I’m going to be a _total_ pest until I find out. I’ll ask around. I’ll talk to Varric again. I’ll get Adaar curious. I’ll hide under your desk and suck you off when you’re taking reports-“

“Maker would you _not_ ,” Cullen stiffened up, wide-eyed. “You _wouldn’t_.”

“Unlike you, I don't have a sense of shame,” Dorian pointed out. “So.” 

“All right,” Cullen said, a little grumpily, “I was hoping to wait until there was an _appropriate_ time and place but since you’re bent on ruining everything, stay here. I’ll go fetch it.” 

Dorian tried not to feel _too_ curious as Cullen let down the ladder to his bedroom and climbed up. Above, he could hear Cullen taking off his armour, setting it on the rack, which was promising, but then there was the sound of something else being put on again, mail, by the jingling sounds of it, which was entirely strange, By the time Cullen was starting to climb down the ladder again, Dorian had come up with twelve increasingly improbable explanations for Cullen’s ‘surprise’ and had drawn a total blank. 

Cullen was bright red again by the time he got off the ladder and walked awkwardly towards the desk. “There.” he said.

‘There’ was a suit of… full armour, plate over a mail shirt and a deep red surcoat the colour of blood, all black enamel, vaguely similar to Chantry Templar gear, up to the full plate gauntlets that sheathed Cullen’s fingers. The sigil on the chestpiece was a familiar one, a red shield with three gold bars, and a many-pronged sunburst, and slowly, as Dorian looked Cullen over, he started to grin, so widely that he was glad that they were in private.

“I don’t know what to say.” 

Cullen grimaced, glancing down over the chestpiece. “It’s wrong, isn’t it? I knew it. Varric had such a _weird_ look on his face when he arranged to have it delivered.”

“Varric acquired it?”

“Well, he uh, arranged for this bit to be made on the quiet,” Cullen rapped his knuckles on the chestpiece, “And he sourced the rest through the merchants here. Um. I. Guess I’ll uh. Change back.” 

“No, no,” Dorian walked over quickly, and trailed his fingers appreciatively over the black gauntlets, over the decidedly ridiculous red cloak, circling around. “Cullen Rutherford. Dressing up as the Black Divine.”

Cullen turned a sight redder than he already was, somehow. “Well, er, I… you said-“

“No one’s actually ever gone to such lengths to try and please me before,” Dorian admitted softly, while he was behind Cullen, just so that Cullen wouldn’t see the foolish grin that curled up unbidden over Dorian’s mouth. “Tell me about your master plan to get us both to the throne unseen for sex.”

“I hadn’t figured that part out yet.”

“So you were actually prepared to…” Dorian trailed off, disbelievingly, and even as Cullen started to mutter something about Dorian having forced his hand, Dorian stepped right over to kiss him: it was either that or say something out of impulse that he would regret afterwards. He kissed Cullen until they were stumbling back against Cullen’s desk, hands curled tight in fistfuls of the heavy cloak, until his lungs were burning and Cullen’s shoulders shook under the heavy plate. 

“So,” Cullen panted, as they parted for breath, “You like it?”

“It’s entirely inaccurate,” Dorian kissed Cullen’s nose. “But I like it.” 

Cullen’s brow furrowed. “It’s really inaccurate? But I read all those books in the library and made all those enquiries and-“ 

“You,” Dorian kissed Cullen again soundly to interrupt him. “ _Perfect_. Man.” 

That got a pleased, shy smile out of Cullen, and Dorian had to push Cullen back against the desk, had to go down on his knees before Cullen could see how full his heart was to bursting; like a dull ache that made his blood sing. Dorian tossed belts apart on the floor, and unpicked the hastily tied laces of Cullen’s black leather breeches with his teeth, felt Cullen’s thighs tremble under his palms, even as he smelled oil and metal as gauntleted fingers curled carefully against his skull.

“I, um, _oh_ Maker your mouth - I was going to um, suggest that we move on to er. If you wanted.” 

“Move on to ‘er’?” Dorian teased, even as he mouthed playfully again over the straining cock in Cullen’s smallclothes. 

“Well, er, well-“ Cullen’s stutter melted into a groan as Dorian tugged smallclothes and breeches down to his knees and sucked in Cullen’s thickening cock, no finesse, just hunger, running his tongue roughly under the weight of Cullen’s prick and taking him in so quickly that Dorian gagged a little on it, groaning as he did. 

It wouldn’t do for their play to finish so quickly though, after all that Cullen had done to set matters up, and all too soon, Dorian had to draw a ring of force around the base of Cullen’s flesh and tightening balls, pulling off with an obscene pop. Cullen’s hips jerked under Dorian’s hands, and he was breathing hard, as though he’d just run the length and breadth of Skyhold. 

“If I’m meant to be the Archon,” Dorian said playfully, “I don’t think _you_ should be the one getting your cock wet.” 

“I could try,” Cullen said doubtfully, instead of stammering like Dorian expected, “But I don’t think I’m going to be any good at it.”

Dorian had to take in a slow, deep breath and press the heel of his hand tightly against his own straining cock. “You, _amatus_ ,” he said finally, when he recovered some self control, “Are going to be the end of me.” 

“Fair’s fair,” Cullen said, though he was smiling faintly again as Dorian scrambled to his feet, tugging off his boots, then belts, breeches and smallclothes, cursing under his breath at the buckles. Here the Commander surprised him again: once Dorian’s arse was bare, Cullen pulled Dorian up on the desk, sweeping away reports and requisitions alike with a swipe of his hand, and kissed him roughly as he tugged Dorian’s thighs up around his waist, groaning as Dorian rewarded him by conjuring a little flake of frost between their tongues.

Magic always made this sort of play easier: slick to ease the way, a little healing to loosen his flesh as Dorian pushed two fingers into himself, already impatient. Cullen shifted back to look, openly fascinated, and Gods if _that_ wasn’t flattering and seductive all at once. 

“I could try and help?” Cullen suggested, running the leather base of one gauntleted thumb carefully up Dorian’s thickened cock, and Dorian sucked in a harsh breath and had to smirk to cover his surprise. 

“You’re still not being a very good Black Divine.” 

“What’s he like, then?”

“Ruthless.” Dorian wormed his fingers deeper, pushing his knees apart, welcoming the bite of it, the friction. “Cold. Probably slightly insane. Ambitious. Sums up Tevinter nobility in general, actually.”

“I thought he was more or less the Archon’s servant.”

“Not exactly.”

“Well,” Cullen’s mouth twitched up a little at the corners. “Would you _like_ him to be the Archon’s servant?”

Laughter left Dorian all in a rush, leaving the hot burn of arousal in its wake. “My dear Commander. I’m _shocked_. Kiss me,” he ordered, when Cullen raised an eyebrow in playful challenge, forever with his hidden depths, and Cullen obeyed, the kiss sweet and soft, and Dorian dared to raise his free hand to Cullen’s head and push, downwards. He watched in disbelief as Cullen went, in a creak and clank of armour and mail, down onto his knees, to press an uncertain kiss over the arch of Dorian’s cock, then again, when Dorian groaned. 

Cullen took to this as thoroughly as he did everything, peppering Dorian’s flesh with the most maddening, wet kisses, then going _further_ , down, over the weight of Dorian’s balls, over the ticklish soft flesh on the underside of his thighs. At the first flick of a curious tongue against Dorian’s knuckles, pressed so close to his stretched hole, however, Dorian couldn’t quite take it much longer.

“Back up,” Dorian gasped, before he embarrassed himself, and Cullen went, again with a clash and a squeal of armour.

“You’re damaging my desk,” Cullen murmured, and Dorian noticed that he _had_ burned a handprint into the wood from where his free hand had clutched at the edge, but even as he tried to voice some apology Cullen dragged him over for a searing, possessive kiss, tongue thrust into his mouth as though trying to drink him all down, and this time Dorian flicked a whisper of the storm between them, in the sharp ping of electricity over his lips, and felt Cullen shudder against him in want. 

“Maker,” Cullen whispered against his mouth, “Now I’m never going to be able to look at this desk and concentrate ever again.”

For all his prep, Cullen was still deliciously big, the push within Dorian a slow and toe-curlingly hot burn; Cullen gasped and whined against his ear, sounding dazed and as blindsided by lust as Dorian felt, all sweat and leather and metal and this was the madness of lust, desire’s triumph over logic. There was nowhere that Dorian would rather be but here, nothing that existed but Cullen, stretched full and desperate for more. 

“All right?” Cullen choked against his neck, when he was fully hilted, and Dorian let out a soft and disbelieving laugh. 

“Never better.”

“I don’t think that I’m going to be, um, very good at this either.” 

“Cullen,” Dorian said breathlessly, dryly, “There is nothing you could do or say to me at this point to annoy me.” 

Cullen grinned, and the first thrust was an awkward thing, a virgin’s caution: Dorian rolled his eyes and growled, “I’m not going to _break_ ,” and the next was better, harder, until it got wild enough that the heavy desk groaned and shifted against the stone, until Dorian was clawing at the dull metal of Cullen’s shoulderplates and snarling Cullen’s name, in one gasping filthy prayer until he was spent, white fluid coating a stripe over the black armour like an obscene highlight. 

“Fuck,” Cullen breathed, and ducked his head, his thrusts going more brutal, until Dorian could feel the pressure of it in his spine, feel Cullen tremble against him as Dorian dispelled the ring against Cullen’s flesh, watched as Cullen stilled abruptly with a keening wail that had to be audible past even the heavy doors of Cullen’s office. 

“Not yet,” Dorian purred, as Cullen made as though to pull away, hooking him against him with a foot and propping himself up against Cullen’s desk with his elbows. “I want to savour this.” 

Cullen mumbled something for a moment, then cleared his throat, catching his breath. “So. Uh. What about the armour is wrong?”

“Well, _everything_. You’ve just made a black version of your Chantry armour. We don’t even have the same style of… of everything, and you can’t expect me to be entirely coherent right now,” Dorian complained, when Cullen’s mouth started to twitch again. 

“It… it was good and…” Cullen trailed off awkwardly, “If you would like… again…”

“Give me an hour,” Dorian suggested, just to watch Cullen blink and stammer something about an advisor’s meeting. “Or tonight,” he relented, after a moment. “Any night.” 

“And, um, about this… us…”

“Yes, I know,” Dorian interrupted. “Though with the noise we just made, I can’t imagine anyone within earshot _not_ drawing his or her conclusions.“

“I mean,” Cullen forged on determinedly, “I don’t. Want it to be a secret. I mean. I hate gossip but. I don’t want it to be like a dirty secret, I mean, no one deserves that, and…” He trailed off when Dorian started to grin. “Maker. I’m really not good at this.”

“On the contrary, Commander,” Dorian murmured, as he leaned up to pull Cullen over for a kiss, “I can’t imagine anyone better.”

**Author's Note:**

> “That’s easy,” Bull said, when Adaar told him about Dorian’s strange antics earlier in the day. “Dorian and Cullen are fucking. Painfully obvious.”
> 
> Adaar blinked, frozen in the middle of taking off his jacket, seated on the side of their bed. “Oh. Is _that_ all it is?”
> 
> Bull grunted. “I know, right? Humans. Instead of all this pussyfooting around each other, they should just go _bam!_ Straight to the point. You want to fuck? Just fuck. No talking about _feelings_ and _flowers_ or whatever.” 
> 
> “Then why was Varric involved?” Adaar asked, bewildered. “Or do I want to know?”
> 
> “Pretty sure Cullen was smuggling in some sort of sex toy,” Bull said wisely, for despite all appearances to the contrary he _was_ a good spy, and had heard all the rumours.
> 
> “Really? _Cullen_?”
> 
> “Always the quiet ones, eh.” 
> 
> \--
> 
> twitter: manic_intent  
> tumblr: manic-intent


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